


Basket Cases

by quartetship



Series: Snapshots [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When both of you can feel it, but neither thinks to say it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basket Cases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yukine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukine/gifts).



> Part five of the one shot series from tumblr. Originally posted as a gift for Flint!
> 
> This piece (and the entire series) is dedicated to the Twitter Squad, who make social media a lot more interesting. And gay. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> \--

Marco feels it first, or at least believes that he does.

It's the second month in their new home - the house that's actually theirs, from its spacious yard to its empty upstairs bedrooms - and they're hosting everyone they could think to invite for a housewarming party. He's talking to Bertholdt about work, and watching Jean and Connie laugh about something when Sasha walks past and gives him one of her warm smiles. Her skin glows with the happiness of the moment, but also with the first hints of her pregnancy, as she makes her way to the kitchen for her third plate of snack food. He returns her smile and doesn't miss a beat in his conversation, but something suddenly feels off. He spends the rest of the evening trying to figure out what it is, but as the last guests go home - and Jean searches loudly for everything he misplaced in the chaos of the party - he lets it go.

The house is quiet when they go to bed that night, but the stillness does nothing to help Marco sleep.

\--

It's a few weeks later when Jean feels it.

They're making laps through the aisles of a home improvement store, looking for knobs and fixtures and things he couldn't care less about when something catches his eye. In the lawn and garden section, a huge swing set stands fully assembled, the brightly colored flag on top waving in the synthetic breeze of the air conditioned warehouse. He stops and stares at it, a grin creeping across his face even before Marco notices it too, and reminds him that he's too old for tire swings.

"Yeah, I know _I_ am," he laughs, but the meaning behind his words startles him as they leave his mouth and he doesn't bother to finish his sentence. They finish crossing items off of their list and head home, and Jean doesn't mention the fact that their yard is definitely big enough for one of those swing sets.

The table feels too big for the two of them at dinner, but he eats without acknowledging it, and pours them both a second glass of wine.

\--

Shopping for a baby shower isn't something Marco had ever thought he'd be able to convince Jean to do, but when he asks him if he wants to come along, Jean actually offers to drive.

Marco stops at the registry counter to ask for Sasha's gift list, and looks up to find Jean already perusing racks of blankets and bottles. He doesn't tell him how cute he looks trying to decide between teddy bears and ducks. He doesn't mention that the baby will be too small to get much use out of the tiny pairs of shoes that Jean can't make up his mind between. He just wants to enjoy the moment, and tell himself that it's not selfish at all to be a little bit jealous of Connie and Sasha. When Jean asks him what he thinks Eren and Armin will get for the baby, Marco grins and pretends it doesn't bother him that Jean is only thinking of besting someone else as they pay for their basket full of presents.

He asks Jean to wrap them. When Jean finishes, he stacks them in the spare bedroom, the one they've never bothered to decorate or even paint. Marco closes the door, saying aloud to no one in particular that it's so that the gifts won't be disturbed. He doesn't close their bedroom door that night, though. With no one else in the house, there's no need.

\--

Connie repeatedly insists that they don't need anything, but Jean drops by a few times a week anyway.

Sometimes he tells Marco he's going, or brings him along so they have two pairs of hands to help tidy things up or cook for the exhausted new parents. Other times he doesn't bother to mention it, stopping by on his way home from work to bring them pizza and chat for a few minutes before heading home to Marco and their big, quiet house. Regardless, he always peeks into the room where the newborn little boy is sleeping, and lets himself grin into the half light of the nursery the way he wouldn't dare do in front of anyone else.

He listens to Connie's bragging and Sasha's horror stories about parenthood with equal attention, and he laughs just loud enough to keep them talking. He isn't bothered so much when the baby wakes and cries, but more so when he leaves the new little family behind for the silence of home. He makes a little extra racket coming in the door on those evenings, just to break it up.

Dinner is anywhere but home, in the noisiest, most distracting restaurants he can find all over town, and even after two solid weeks of eating out, Marco doesn't argue when he picks a boisterous steakhouse on a Friday night. The hostess at the door asks them how many, and when Marco says "just two", something in Jean's chest aches. He chases it away with cheap beer and buffalo wings, and hopes that the only thing he'll feel the next morning is heartburn.

\--

When Marco sees the blinking 'OPEN' sign in the window of a brand new pet store in their favorite strip mall, he almost knocks Jean to the floor dragging him inside.

There are rows of plexiglass cages with puppies of every sort, and Marco wants to scoop up an arm full of them at once. He settles on picking up a little dog with the word 'Corgie' written on a plaque in front of it's cage, and holds it up to look back at Jean.

"Isn't it precious?" He waves the puppy's paw at Jean and hugs it tighter. It's not quite what his heart wants, but he knows it's probably the closest he'll get anytime soon. Jean gives him a lazy grin and nods.

"Yeah, it's pretty damn cute. Probably expensive, though. What's got you wanting a dog all of a sudden , anyway?"

Marco hesitates to answer, because this isn't the place to say what he's really thinking. He shrugs and offers the dog to Jean, stroking its ears as he holds it out from his chest.

"I don't know, just... the house is so big for just the two of us, and it gets kind of lonely, and I'm ready to... have something to take care of, other than us." He smiles because nothing that he's said is untrue. Jean doesn't return it.

Instead, he looks at Marco with an expression that resembles hurt, and then down at the puppy with disgust. He pushes the little dog back toward Marco and sucks in a sharp breath before backing toward the door to the shop.

"We don't need a fucking dog, Marco" he says bitterly, and is out the door without a further word.

They don't even bother eating dinner together that night, and Marco goes to bed confused and lonelier than before.

\--

The day at the pet store blows over like everything else between them, and things are fine for a while. Neither of them mention what an ass Jean was then; Marco's too good to and Jean's too bad at apologies. It doesn't seem to matter much until the morning of Easter Sunday, when Jean can't keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

Marco is sitting cross-legged in their living room, tying bow after beautiful bow onto Easter baskets they've filled for his plethora of nieces and nephews. He's smiling to himself and humming something that almost sounds like a lullaby, and Jean can't keep watching him in silence. He looks at the pretty baskets and the man that he loves _so damned much_ sitting in front of them and he just... snaps.

"This is so fucking unfair" he hisses, and Marco looks up at him incredulously.

"What's wrong? What's unfair, Jean?"

"This. These." He points an open hand to the gifts strewn around the living room floor and groans, thinking of the excited children that they're for. "I just... _I_ want some. At least one. Ok? There it is."

Marco blinks a few times and looks down at the basket in his hands, then back up at Jean. "You... want one?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, not just me - _us_ \- I want one for us. I want us to want one, together, I guess. And I wouldn't mind more than one, but maybe... yeah, I don't know." He slumps over the back of their couch but doesn't stop looking down at Marco. There's a stretch of tense silence as Marco considers what he's saying, then finally answers with more than a little confusion in his voice.

"Well, I mean... I didn't know it was that important to you, Jean. I'm sorry if--"

"I don't want it to just be important to me, though. If you're not onboard with it, then I don't want any, at least not right now."

Marco eyes the cellophane wrapped gifts around him and looks back at Jean, still perplexed. "I mean, it's not really something I knew you wanted, or... I wish you would've said something before now. But if it will make you happy--"

"It really would" Jean admits, and lets his face sink a little lower into the back of the couch. "I know, I should've mentioned it before, but I was just worried that it would freak you out or something, so I didn't."

"Freak me out? That's silly, Jean. I want you to have whatever makes you happy." He holds up a basket and sighs. "These are already wrapped and tagged, but if you want, we can stop by the store on the way home and get you whatever kind you'd like."

It's Jean's turn to be confused, and he looks at Marco like they're speaking a different language. Only when he sees Marco glance back between he and the basket again does he realize that maybe they _are_.

"Do you... do you seriously think I was talking about Easter baskets?"

"Well, yeah?" Marco says, and Jean almost laughs.

"Jesus, Marco no. I meant _kids_. Babies. I want... I'm jealous of Connie and Sasha and their adorable little brat, and of that couple next door with the three little girls, and I - I want that! With you. I want kids, Marco. I didn't wanna scare you off or some shit by talking about it, but I can't stand it anymore! I wanna be a dad." He finishes his sentence by burying his face between the cushions he's been resting it on, and barely breathes as he waits for Marco to say something in response. He doesn't for a while, and Jean starts to worry that he's blown it, upset Marco too much for the conversation to continue. When the silence does finally break, it's from laughter, spilling out of Marco like bubbles of champagne.

"Why the hell are you laughing at me?" Jean asks as his face darts up from between the pillows to glare to Marco. He doesn't have time to scowl for very long, though; Marco is crawling across the floor and onto the couch, still laughing as he clasps his hands on either side of Jean's face and pulls him down for a kiss. Jean can feel him shaking against his lips, his face wet from watering eyes. He doesn't stop laughing, even as he pulls back to look Jean in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, sweetheart. If anything I'm laughing at myself - I can't believe I didn't understand - but Jean I'm so... God, I wish you had told me earlier. I've been thinking the same thing for so long, but I was afraid too. I didn't think... but I'm so glad, so happy Jean." He babbles for a few minutes, wiping his eyes between bursts of nervous giggles, until it's too much for Jean to stand and he dives over the back of the couch and knocks them both to the floor.

"You are so incredible, Marco" he whispers, because it's the closest thing he can manage to what he really wants to say. Marco is patient and perfect and _his_ , and he couldn't love anyone else as much if he tried. But thinking about the possibility of raising a child, and having a family with Marco makes his heart feel a little bit roomier, and he thinks that maybe together, they could love someone even more.

They deliver the baskets to ecstatic nieces and nephews, stop by a drugstore on the way home for wine and discount Easter candy, and eat chocolate for dinner in their big, quiet house, making plans together to fill it with more life, more laughter and much, much more love.


End file.
